


Little Accidents

by Cyan (vehicroids)



Category: South Park
Genre: Also it mentions Style ONCE but it's more to poke fun of Cartman, Alternate Universe - High School, And a little perverted, Butters is also a little thirsty, It's totally an AU if they're aged up do not @ me, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-05-30 14:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15098585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vehicroids/pseuds/Cyan
Summary: Butters' crush had started to cause problems as of late, and he couldn't focus on anything anymore. Who knew Butters was so clumsy?





	1. Chapter 1

Butters was an idiot. Lately, his focus had completely gone, his grades were sinking, and his parents weren't happy at all. They would have been even less happy to find out why his grades were sinking, and that was why Butters lied. He hated lying to his parents, but they loved lying to him. It was a two way street.

The reason Butters’ grades were sinking was because he had a pretty bad crush. It was one thing to like a girl - his parents would have understood - but liking a boy? That was out of the question. He kept his feelings to himself, lest he endure another few weeks at conversion camp.

Butters didn't asked for tkus feelings, and if he could stop them, he would have. But there was something about Stan Marsh that drew Butters to him.

It could be that laugh of his, or the way he smiled. It could be how selfless he could be, or how he lit up the room in Butters’ mind. Maybe it was because of how much Stan cared about animals, how he had so much passion for the things he loved. Butters had tried to pass off his feelings as plain admiration, but when his thoughts turned to wanting to kiss Stan, he couldn't deny it anymore.

It made paying attention in class difficult, especially when Butters shared so many classes with him. Stan usually sat close - they were friends, and their group stuck together unless there was a seating plan. Which that made keeping his feelings quiet a little difficult. Still, he managed. After years of practice, he knew how to swallow his feelings.

He could keep to himself how Stan looked when he was focused on a test, his eyes narrowed and tapping his pen on the paper. He could smile to himself over Stan's expression when he clearly wasn't paying attention, a little pout on his face from boredom. How could one boy be so cute?

What made things worse was that he was certain Stan was straight. Sure, there were debates over Stan and Kyle being a secret couple, but Butters didn't buy it. There were always rumours about those two, always started by Eric. Butters had learned that most things Eric said were lies, and lived a much better life for it.

He did want to ask, though, but how did one bring that up? Butters was bisexual, maybe Stan was, too. He could relate to him. Or, he could awkwardly come out, have Stan reject him, and everyone would find out about it. Then his mom and dad would find out, and it was all over for him. On second thoughts, the closet was much nicer, and much safer.

It didn't mean Butters couldn't subtly stare at Stan though. He sat in front of Butters during chemistry, usually looking a little bored. Butters loved that cute little pout. Unfortunately, he couldn't stare forever, not when he had work to do. It didn't stop Butters from catching sneaky glances at Stan. He was carefully pouring acid into a beaker, trying to focus more on that than his crush.

Stan dropped his pen and he clicked his tongue, bending over to pick it up. Of course, Butters just had to take a look. He had such a nice ass, he wondered what it would've been like naked. Oh, what he would have done to just grab those cheeks and--

“Butters!” Eric shouted beside him. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Startled, Butters dropped the beaker he was holding, watching it fall to the desk. It rolled off the desk, smashing into the floor in a thousand pieces. All eyes were on him, including Stan, and he had never felt so embarrassed. The table was covered in acid, ruining their work. He knew the acid wasn't strong enough to immediately cause harm, but Butters didn't know what to do. He stepped back immediately, but Eric still just sat there, dumbfounded.

The teacher came over to help clean up and told both of them off; Butters for not paying attention, and Eric for being too lazy to do anything. Butters couldn't help but feel upset - he had embarrassed himself in front of the whole class, and ruined his notes. He hung his head low for the rest of the class, and when it ended, he ran out of there quickly. He just wanted to die of shame and avoid everyone.

“Butters!” Stan yelled behind him.

Of course Butters stopped for him. If it was anyone else, he would have politely refused their attempts at reaching out. But it was Stan, and Butters always had time for him. He turned to Stan with a smile, and Stan caught up, walking beside him.

“So what was the damage?” Stan asked with a soft laugh. That laugh always made Butters smile.

“Well, I owe Eric a new pencil case, and I need to get a new one too.” Butters fiddled with his hands, rubbing his knuckles together. “And I lost a bunch of class work.”

Butters tried not to let on he was distraught. All those colour coded notes, the neat work he had done, destroyed in an instant. Not to mention he would have to explain to his parents why he would need a new pencil case. He sighed.

Stan frowned and held out his chemistry folder to Butters. “You can borrow my notes, if you want.”

Butters beamed at him, accepting the folder. Stan was just so kind to him. “Thanks, Stan! That's real sweet of you.”

Stan scratched the back of his head. “Don't mention it.”

Butters spent that evening noting down everything Stan has written. His writing was scruffy, and the papers covered in lazy doodles. Butters smiled, imagining the expression Stan had while lazily scrawling on the sheets of paper. His eyes were probably half-lidded, eyes on the board but his mind elsewhere.

No, Butters, focus. This was why his grades were sinking.

They were also unfortunate enough to have shop class together. Butters hated the class, but it was the only way his father would let him take art. It was mostly just boys goofing around with tools, and Butters was pretty uncomfortable in the class. Still, he made the best of it, and had made some real neat things.

But with Stan around? Butters’ heart just wouldn't quit.

Butters could hear Stan across the room, joking around with Clyde. Stan's voice carried over the room louder than anything else, and not even the sound of saws and drills drowned him out. Butters tried to focus on the work he was doing - he was using a saw - but Stan was his focus. As ever. He could hear Stan laughing at Clyde's crude jokes. Stan made some comment back to him, and they both laughed. How Butters wished he could make him laugh like that.

“Butters!” The teacher yelled. “Quit screwing around!”

“Huh? Oh, hamburgers!”

Butters looked at what he was doing. He was just an inch away from sawing off his thumb. Without hesitation, he turned the machine off. Okay, no more of that, mister. Not until he could get control of himself again. He caught Stan's eye, and they exchanged smiles before Butters scampered off to do something else. It was like he was unable to be normal around Stan.

The only respite Butters had was classes away from Stan. Those were the only classes where his grades did not suffer - he could pay attention a little more without his attention being completely stolen. His mind did wander though, but he thought about Stan in short bursts instead of thinking about him for an hour.

Even after school was torture. He would be invited over to hang out with the rest of the friend group, watching them play video games. Eric hated it, but Eric had no say. Butters would join in, even if just to sit next to Stan while trying to kick his butt at video games. Butters always lost, but that was because he was always distracted. He didn't mind losing to Stan. He loved watching Stan focus, with the tip of his tongue sticking out - that was the real victory.

Butters was in too deep.

Gym class was his idea of Hell. Not only did it bring to light how unfit he was, but also there was another predicament - boys in shorts. More specifically, Stan in shorts. More specifically still, Stan all sweaty in shorts. Butters always looked anywhere else - the floor, his shoes, Eric - anything to turn himself off. No matter what, the mental image stayed in place. He was supposed to be a good Catholic, but here he was lusting over another guy. He should have felt bad, but he didn't.

Butters hated when gym class was just an hour of running. He was never the fastest, and he always trailed behind. Not like Eric did, but when Kyle and Clyde overtook him while a lap ahead, it was demoralizing. He just went at his own pace, even if it was a bit of a slow run. He heard footsteps behind him, and he sighed, knowing he was about to be overtaken by someone else.

“Hey Butters,” Stan huffed, attempting to smile through his exhaustion.

“Hey Stan,” Butters smiled - he was barely running, and nowhere near as exhausted as Stan. Did Stan run to catch up with him? “Don't work yourself too hard, okay?”

Stan laughed. “Don't worry about it. I have my inhaler, and I'm used to running faster than this.”

Butters expected Stan to overtake, but instead, he kept up at his speed. He appreciated the gesture, but Stan and shorts was a bad combination for Butters’ fragile heart. He couldn't help but sneak more glances over at him while Stan was too busy to notice. He was so cute, it should have been illegal.

Butters was too busy staring to pay attention to running. That was how he ended up tripping over his own feet, and how he ended up on the floor with a twisted ankle. Butters sat up immediately, unable to bring himself to touch the ankle. Don't cry, don't cry, not in front of Stan.

Stan stopped, crouching down. He took his foot so carefully in his hand, examining it. Butters bit down in his tongue, fighting the tears that threatened to spill. Stan frowned at his ankle.

“It's broken, isn't it?” Butters asked.

“It's not broken. Come on dude, I'll take you to see the nurse.”

Stan helped him stand up, draping Butters’ arm around his shoulders. It was difficult being carried to the nurse's office by a guy who was shorter than Butters, but they made it work. The nurse made Butters sit down and, after a quick check, she assessed it was just twisted. She handed Butters an ice pack and left the room for a moment.

“Are you okay?” Stan asked, holding the pack to Butters’ ankle.

“It hurts,” Butters sniffled, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “But it ain't broken. Guess that's something, huh?”

Stan smiled weakly at him, looking back down at his ankle. This served Butters right for living a life of sin. It was God's punishment for his lust. Stan looked back at him, and immediately the guilt faded away.

“You've been pretty accident prone lately,” Stan said.

“I have?”

“You almost sawed your hand off, you destroyed your class work, you've twisted your ankle…” Stan sighed. “You've never been like this before.”

Before. Something about that word made him smile - it made him feel like Stan paid attention to him. Butters turned pink, glancing away. He could at least pretend he wasn't a little gay for Stan.

“My head's been elsewhere,” Butters admitted.

Stan looked at him in concern. “Are you okay? You know you can talk to me.”

This was his chance to say something. He may not have wanted to, but maybe if he played it cool enough, Stan would just laugh it off.  Butters took a deep breath.

“Well, I--" Butters fiddled with his fingers. He just needed to get the words out. “I like you. I _like_ like you. A lot. Oh Jesus, this makes things weird, doesn't it?”

Butters laughed nervously, but Stan said nothing. He blinked, dazed. And now he would wait for the polite rejection, the soft smile, and that would be that. They could be friends, hopefully. Unless Butters had managed to make the friendship weird by admitting this. Stan sighed.

“Can I think about this?” Stan asked.

“Well, sure. Take all the time you need.”

To Butters, that just meant Stan would never speak to him again. At least he got the words out. Stan smiled at him - that smile always made him fuzzy inside.

“Thanks, dude,” Stan said. “I should go, but we can talk later.”

“Sure.”

Stan left the room, and Butters was left holding the ice pack himself. He hoped Stan wouldn't tell anyone. He could at least offer Butters that much.


	2. Chapter 2

Over a month had passed since Butters had told Stan how he felt. Not much had changed, but Butters was keeping to himself a little more. It would have been strange hanging out with the others, like he was inserting himself somewhere he did not belong. He had other friends and other things to do, so it wasn’t that bad.

He wondered if Stan had told Kyle or Kenny. Maybe, but that didn’t bother him. As long as he didn’t tell Eric, that was all that mattered. The last thing Butters needed was for Eric to mock him over liking boys. Eric had enough ammo.

Butters swore Stan was trying to avoid him. If Stan saw Butters, he would turn red before bolting the other way, his tail between his legs. He could understand that he felt awkward, but Stan said they would talk about this after he'd thought about it. Unless Stan didn't want to talk to him ever again, and this was his way of showing it. If that was the case, Stan wasn’t being a good friend.

He would see Stan in class, and would immediately look away. He was embarrassed, but not just for himself. Stan was sweet and deserved better than the weird gay kid liking him. If it was any other boy, it would have been better for everyone.

Butters sat alone for lunch most days - he felt weird imposing on other friend groups who asked why he didn’t sit with Stan and the others, and he didn't mind the peace. It gave him some time to do homework and study. All in all, it worked out well for Butters. His peace was disrupted with someone putting their tray down in front of him. Butters looked up and smiled.

“Hey, Stan!” Butters said.

Stan tried to smile back, but it looked a little strange. Embarrassed, even. Butters was fairly sure he was blushing, too. Maybe he was embarrassed to be seen with Butters. That was a depressing thought, one Butters quickly stashed away.

“Do you mind if I sit with you?”

“Course not! The more, the merrier.”

Stan sat down, and Butters closed his textbook. He looked around subtly for the others, and they were all sitting together. Heck, they were only a table away. Then why was Stan sitting with Butters? It didn't make any sense. Maybe they could both sit with the other boys, though something told Butters not to suggest it.

They ate lunch quietly, which only made Butters more nervous. He was waiting for rejection, but it never came. In fact, Stan didn't even look at him. Butters didn't know if he was relieved or if that made it worse.

“I told Kyle,” Stan muttered, finally breaking the silence. “Sorry.”

Well, that was obvious. “Aw, that's alright. Kinda thought you would,” Butters said with a soft laugh.

He poked at his food with disdain. Butters didn't feel like eating anymore - his stomach was in more knots than a balloon animal. It was just him and Stan, why was he worried? Maybe that was why. He rubbed his knuckles together, barely aware of the sting. That was when Stan looked back up at him.

“Dude-- Butters! Your hands!” Stan gasped, horrified. “They’re turning red.”

He grabbed Butters’ hand, who didn’t protest. Butters knew what he had been doing. His nervous habit had left his skin raw and tender, leaving red marks on his knuckles. It stung a little, and his skin had begun to crack. Butters had started to carry around moisturiser to ease the pain, and it helped.

Stan looked at Butters’ hand, then back up at Butters in concern. Butters had to look away - he didn’t know if he was embarrassed, ashamed, or both. Stan ran his thumb gently on the sore knuckles, frowning.

“Is this because of me?” Stan asked, not looking up at Butters.

Of course Stan was aware of his habit. They had been friends since they were little. Butters wanted to lie. No sir, he hadn't been nervous over this the whole time. No, he was just fine. But Stan would see through him. He wasn't stupid. Butters gave him a half-smile.

“Well, um, you know. We've had tests coming up and Eric's been demanding I study with him, and it's been real busy,” he mumbled, making a conscious effort not to rub his knuckled together.

It wasn't strictly a lie. He had been studying with Eric, and tests were coming up. However, it wasn't strictly the truth, either. There was simply no use in worrying Stan over silly old Butters. It was nice to see that he cared, though. Stan didn't let go, even though he perhaps should've. What if his friends saw? They’d see him being all ‘gay’ with Butters of all people.

“Do you wanna come over after school? We can talk about…”

Stan trailed off, pointedly looking at their joined hands. Butters really wanted to let go - not for himself, but for Stan’s sake. No need to let him be made fun of for Butters’ feelings, even if he loved holding his hand. But if someone asked, Stan was just looking at the back of his hand, and he had reason to.

Butters had almost forgotten the question until Stan looked up at him again. Oh, right.

“Course! I don't have any plans.”

He did have plans. He was supposed to meet up with Eric, but this was far more important. He would just have to politely tell him no. Like saying no to Eric ever ended well for Butters, but it was fine.

Stan smiled, relieved. He squeezed Butters’ hand briefly before letting go, going back to his lunch. Butters’ stomach was in knots. He poked at the cold tater tots once again. Normally, he would've been happy to eat them, but now? Ugh. He still couldn't eat. Stan seemed unaffected, carrying on like nothing happened. He was always a lot braver than Butters.

Butters was quiet for the rest of the day. Every time he thought about Stan, the knot in his stomach tightened. What made it worse was sharing classes with him, and sitting near him was painful. Butters tried focusing on class, but his brain was elsewhere. Specifically, his mind was on what would happen after school.

Stan was going to politely reject him. Thanks, but no thanks. Stan liked girls. If not girls, then certainly not Butters. Maybe Craig, or Kenny, or even as a surprise twist: Clyde. They could still be friends. Hopefully. As long as Butters liking him didn't make Stan uncomfortable.

It was hard to avoid his anxious habit, instead chewing lightly on the end of his pen. Not too hard, or else someone might notice. Who was he kidding - no one ever noticed. By the end of the day, his favourite pen was dented with little teeth marks. He frowned.

Come the end of the day, Butters wasn't even sure if Stan was serious about coming over. He was at his locker, swapping out his Physics textbook for his Math textbook. As he closed the locker, Stan approached, hands stashed in his letterman jacket. Butters’ heart skipped a beat, and he held the book tight to his chest. He loosened his grip almost as soon as he could. Come on, Butters, at least pretend to be a man. He exhaled softly, smiling at Stan.

He was waiting for Stan to reject him, or tell him he wasn't serious. Or perhaps the better option, which was a change of plans or a raincheck. That was also the most likely option. Butters wished that Stan put it off for a little longer. He wasn’t ready.

“Do you still wanna come over?” Stan asked.

“Oh-- well, sure!” Butters smiled.

He was a little stunned, but he wasn't complaining. Stan smiled nervously, leading the way home without a word. The best thing about a small mountain town was that everything was within walking distance, including school. The bad thing was the potential of awkward and silent walks home, and boy did this walk deliver on awkward and silent. Butters held the book tighter, as if somehow that would ease the silence. To the surprise of no one, it did not.

They were childhood friends, yet now Butters was scrambling to fill the silence. He could've asked about homework, but he couldn't think of any questions. Stan looked a little too inside his own head to speak, so there was no use. It was a good thing Butters had his book, or else he would be rubbing his knuckles together like he was trying to start a fire.

They reached the Marsh residence before Butters could even think about saying anything. Stan announced to his parents that he had brought Butters home to study, before taking him up to his room. Butters put his book and bag on the floor by Stan's bed, though he had a feeling they wouldn't be studying.

Stan sat on his bed, kicking his shoes off and calling Butters over to sit with him. His anxiety was sky high, and he just wanted Stan to reject him already so they could move on with their lives. Stan stared at his lap, picking at his fingernails.

“You like me.” The words were stated as fact. Butters nodded. “Why?”

Butters fiddled with his hands, before realising what he was about to do. He sat on his hands, looking down at a particularly interesting piece of sock fluff.

“You're real sweet, and you care so much. I love how good you are to animals, and um… You've mostly been nice to me, which is more than lots of people.”

Stan laughed a little, but it wasn't really out of amusement. Butters didn't know what kind of answer he expected. Maybe something shallow like he was hot, or because he was the quarterback. Honestly, that stuff didn't matter to Butters. Not when he could remember Stan puking when he saw a girl he liked, and not when he knew who Stan was. Butters had seen him at his best and at his worst.

“You're too nice,” Stan said.

Butters sighed, before mumbling, “I-- I ain't gonna lie to you, Stan, I don't wanna drag this out more than necessary.”

“What?” After a moment, Stan clicked. “No, look. If I didn't wanna…”

Stan trailed off. Butters frowned. He wished Stan would just say what was on his mind and get it over with, but Butters was patient. It had to be tough, politely wording a rejection. Butters could at least wait.

“I don't know what to do.” Stan brought his legs up, holding his knees. “Kyle said maybe the best thing to do is nothing and leave it, which is why I've been avoiding you. And I'm sorry. Maybe it's a little too late to say this, but I don't want to just leave it anymore.”

Butters smiled for a moment, before frowning again. He shouldn't have been getting his hopes up. He dug his fingers into the sheets, his anxiety getting the better of him.

“Then what do you wanna do?” Butters asked.

“I know what I wanna do, but even though I know you like me, it's hard to say it.” Stan laughed again, running his hand through his hair. “I like you, too. That's a start.”

Butters nodded. “It… it sure is a start.”

Butters’ heart exploded, leaving a mess inside. He had to force himself not to get too excited, yet he still grabbed Stan's hand. Just as soon as he was about to let go, Stan squeezed his hand. Butters didn’t know if he was reassuring Butters or himself, but it was appreciated regardless.

“I really, really like you. I don't know what we should do. I don't want the guys to pick on you for being gay. They pick on you enough,” Stan said.

He was certain Stan was also in part trying to preserve his own reputation. Butters could understand. It was hard liking boys, and even harder to come out. Butters didn't want to come out to anyone else, not even his parents. No matter how accepting they seemed, he was still terrified of being sent to camp again. But an idea came to him.

“We don't have to come out,” Butters said softly. “Ain't no rule out there saying we've gotta be out and open to anyone but ourselves, you know?”

Stan was quiet, contemplating. Butters sucked in his breath, deciding to bite the bullet and just go for it.

“We could, um…” He stared at the floor, his face burning. “... Date in secret. You know, if you wanted to.”

Stan went quiet. Butters had said the wrong thing. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable rejection. He was pushing too hard for something with Stan. Why couldn't he just respect boundaries? This was why Butters was permanently single, not just because he liked boys.

“You know what? Yeah. You're right. We could. We should.” Stan turned to face Butters, grabbing his other hand. “I'm in if you're in.”

“Huh? But what about the fellas? Or your reputation or--"

“Butters. Stop. It's just about you and me right now. Are you in?”

This was exactly what Butters wanted, yet he was fighting it. A part of his was scared it was a cruel prank. He waited for Eric to pop out at any moment, holding a camera and laughing in his face. But Stan seemed so genuine as he spoke, he would have been an ass to mess with Butters that much. No one pretended to be gay for a joke.

Butters squeezed his hand, smiling warmly at him.

“Course I'm in.”

Stan mirrored his smile, though Butters’ felt more goofy. Should they kiss? No, that was too soon. Kissing would come later, after at least one date. Three dates? Butters didn't know.

“So, um, what do we do now?” Butters asked.

His relationship experience could be summarised with his Canadian girlfriend and the boy he had met at camp. Neither of which counted. Stan, however, had his fair share of girlfriends. Yet even he seemed a little stunned at the moment.

“I don’t know. We should take it slow, and go from there,” Stan said.

Slow. Butters could kind of assume what that meant. But this meant they were something. This meant Butters had Stan. He looked at Stan, his face flushed.

“You okay, dude?” Stan asked.

Butters nodded. “I'm alright.”

Stan squeezed his hand before letting go. “Alright, good.”

And back to awkward silence. Butters kicked off his shoes before bringing his legs up to hug his knees. Stan went back to picking at his fingernails.

“Do you wanna study or something?” Stan asked.

There were things Butters would rather do, but they agreed to take it slow. So he nodded, sliding off the bed to grab his study supplies. A study date was still a date, right? Butters’ heart thumped in his chest as he flicked through the pages.

He came out of the study session learning nothing, but it was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 300 other things to do. So I'm taking this on as a fun little self-project. ... no, I don't have self control, either.
> 
> Come check me out on [Tumblr](http://vehicroids.tumblr.com)!!!


	3. Chapter 3

‘ _ morning stan! :D _ ’

This was into Butters’ morning routine for the past few days: wake up, text Stan, and expect a text when Stan woke up. By the time Butters was dressed, he would return to his phone to see a text.

‘ _ hey _ ’

Casual, but to the point. Butters smiled at his phone. They had been texting all through the day for the past few days, even texting in class. Butters was surprised the teachers never caught him, but he was a good student. He could get away with a little more as long as he kept his head down and worked.

‘ _ what’re you up to? o: _ ’

It was the weekend, and Butters assumed Stan would be hanging out with Kyle or the rest of his friends. Butters would be working on some kind of art project, and during free intervals, they would text each other. He had gotten enough paint on his phone by texting Stan before in a hurry, too excited to wait for the paint on his hands to dry.

‘ _ not a lot _

_ you busy? _ ’

That was a first, and it caught Butters off guard. He stared at his phone, rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. He sat down on his bed, sending him another text.

‘ _ no not really! about to get some breakfast then i dunno what i’ll do _ ’

A moment passed before his phone buzzed again.

‘ _ wanna hang out? _ ’

Butters smiled at his phone, wide and excited. It was just hanging out, and it likely didn’t mean anything, but it didn’t stop his excitement. He tried not to bounce on his bed from anticipation.

‘ _ sure! what were you thinking of doing? o: _ ’

‘ _ movie? _

_ the new T&P came out the other day _ ’

His brain screamed  **_date_ ** like a banshee. And it probably was a date, a date that would lead to holding hands at best and, a rejection at worst. Butters took a deep breath before replying.

‘ _ sure! come on over when you're ready _ ’

Stan sent back a thumbs up. Oh, heck, this meant Butters needed to look nice. He looked at himself in the mirror, smiling at his own reflection. He looked and felt goofy, but that was how he normally looked. He took a comb to the soft tuft at the top of his head, though no matter what he did, he looked stupid. Or he felt like he looked stupid, which was the same to Butters. Stan had known him since they were little, and that should have eased his nerves a little. It didn't.

Butters spent so long fussing over himself that he lost track of time. He heard the door and felt his blood run cold. Luckily, his parents were aware of his friendship with Stan, so it wouldn't have looked  _ weird _ . Butters took one last look in the mirror. Maybe he was trying too hard, maybe he should have gone for more low-key.

“Butters!” Stan called from downstairs, startling Butters and making him drop his comb.

Alright, no use hiding in his room anymore. He sucked in his breath and he slipped on his shoes, trying to squash his nerves. It was just Stan, Butters reminded himself. That did not make him feel any better, no matter how many times he told himself. He ran a hand in his hair as he made his way downstairs, realising in horror that all of his effort was now for  _ nothing _ .

Stan was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, with a little smile on his face. His hands were in his pockets, pulling down the fabric of this jacket. He wasn't wearing his hat for once, and his hair looked washed for the first time in a while. Butters wanted to touch it, but that would have been rude. He shouldn't draw attention to it, but he would have done anything to run his hands through Stan's hair. Oh God, he needed to reel it in. Butters offered him a warm smile as he reached the bottom step.

“You ready?” Stan asked.

Butters nodded. “Yep! Let's get going.”

They left the house and made their way to the theater, Butters’ heart in his throat. If someone saw them, would they suspect anything? Eric would call them gay, but he would have called any two boys hanging out gay. If Craig saw them, maybe he would see through them. Wait, no, gay people didn't have ‘gaydars’. Otherwise, Butters would have known Stan liked boys.

Every time they passed by someone, it felt like they  _ knew _ , but no one could have known. Stan wouldn't tell anyone, and Butters didn't, either. He couldn't help but feel like there was something to be ashamed of, but there wasn't.

They arrived at the movies and purchased their tickets to Terrance and Phillip. They sat down in their seats, and Butters glanced over at Stan. This was hardly a romantic movie, but no part of Stan and Butters was really romantic. He didn't really want romance - he wanted Stan.

“I'm surprised they're still going,” Stan snorted, breaking their silence.

“Yeah, you'd think they'd have given up ten years ago,” Butters said.

After all the controversy they had caused, their ages, the amount of times they claimed they would quit… In a way, their tenacity was admirable. They did not laugh in the face of danger, they farted in it, then laughed.

“I'm surprised you wanted to see this with me,” Butters said.

It seemed like the type of movie Stan would have taken his friends to, not a potential date. They never missed anything Terrance and Phillip related, not even once. Stan shrugged.

“Kyle still hates it, Kenny is too poor, and Cartman… screw going with just Cartman, dude,” Stan said.

Who would  _ want _ to spend any length of time with Eric, alone or not? Well, other than Butters, anyway. Now he was just more curious as to whether this was a date or just hanging out. They both paid for their own tickets, but that was because Butters insisted he could pay for his own. Stan seemed a little down when Butters bought his ticket, but said nothing. Butters was reading too much into it.

The movie began, but Butters wasn't paying much attention. The jokes were hilarious - what wasn't funny about Phillip farting in Terrance’s face? - but his mind was elsewhere. He managed small chuckles, but mostly, his attention was on Stan.

His face lit up with every laugh, and Butters couldn’t help but smile at him. Even when he had the dirtiest laugh because of the crude jokes on screen, he was still so cute. Butters needed to stop staring, but the movie could not hold his attention like Stan did.

Stan's hand sat on the armrest, in view of Butters, almost daring him to hold it. Well, Butters wasn't going to, no sir. He drummed his fingers against the other armrest, leaning against it. He kept glancing at Stan's hand, then back at the movie. Maybe if he just… no! He couldn't grab it. Could he? It was right there, he definitely could.

Oh, screw it.

Butters reached out, putting his hand next to Stan's. He could do this. With his eyes trained on the movie, he slipped his hand over Stan's. Butters’ heart leaped, with his breath caught in his throat. It was dark, no one would see them. If Butters focused on the movie, he wouldn't die.

That was his thought until Stan turned his hand over, taking Butters’ hand in his. He squeezed Stan's hand and glanced over - Stan wasn't looking at him, staring hard at the movie. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting, but Stan's face looked red. Butters smiled to himself, feeling quite smug.

The movie ended, and Butters frowned. How could it have been over already, especially as Butters had only just held Stan's hand? He had to try not to sulk - it was his fault that he had spent so long debating whether or not he  _ should _ , instead of holding his hand. Well, it was too late to be upset now. Butters let go and stood, leading the way out of the building. He wanted to keep holding hands, to keep hold of him in case Stan got ‘lost’. Like anyone would buy that.

“That was way better than the last one,” Stan said.

It was a shame Butters had paid no attention to the movie. He nodded in agreement, knowing he would have said something stupid if he tried to speak. They stood in front of the theatre, a little lost on what to do now. Butters didn't want to go home, and he didn't want to leave Stan. It would have been a pretty crummy not-date to end it so soon.

“Do you wanna walk around Stark’s Pond? We don't have to if you don't wanna,” Butters said.

“Dude, relax. I wanna hang out,” Stan said.

Stark’s Pond wasn't far from the movie theatre, and lucky for them, it was basically deserted. It was too cold to sit and watch the ducks, but too warm for the pond to freeze over and skate on. It was as much privacy a public place could offer, and Butters realised they could have done anything here, and no one would ever know.

Yet when Stan's hand slipped in his again, he was startled. He swallowed, squeezing his hand a little too tightly. It was just holding hands, it was just holding hands, it was just…

Butters was too inside his own head, but when his experience was so limited to a relationship when he was a baby, it was hard  _ not _ to be. He just needed to take little chances, and holding hands was one of them. Butters just needed to be braver. He nudged Stan affectionately, who nudged him back.

“You know, I'm having a real good time with you,” Butters hummed.

“You sound like you're surprised,” Stan said with a laugh.

“Oh! No! I like spending time with you normally. It's just--"

“Butters, I'm kidding.”

Stan smiled up at him, and Butters’ face burned, flustered. He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward and uncomfortable. What Stan did to him totally wasn't fair and he knew it. He bumped into Butters affectionately again, and his heart skipped a beat. Damn Stan and his cute charm and cute face and cute  _ everything _ .

“What I'm trying to say is, I'm glad you invited me to see a movie with you,” Butters said.

Stan looked away, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks turned pink, trying to search for the words.

“It wasn't really an  _ invite _ …” he mumbled, trailing off.

“What do you mean?” Butters asked.

“Call me stupid or whatever, but I thought it was a… a date. But guess it was just me,” he shrugged.

_ Oh _ . Well. Butters laughed again, smiling, before pulling Stan closer.

“I didn't wanna say it in case I was wrong,” Butters said. “Pretty crummy date if you think it's a date but the other thinks just it's friends.”

Stan sighed in relief, leaning his head against Butters’ shoulder. “I thought you might've changed your mind.”

Butters let go of Stan's hand, instead loosely draping his arm around Stan's waist. He glanced around, making sure it was still just them.

“Course not. I ain't letting go ‘til you tell me to,” Butters said.

“Then you're stuck with me. … Jesus Christ, that was cheesy,” Stan said with a snort.

“Aw, but cheesy lines are the best!”

Stan leaned into the embrace, his head against Butters’ cheek. He wrapped his arm around Butters’ waist as Butters leaned his head against Stan's. Butters’ heart was pounding in his chest, but he was so happy.

They took a very slow walk around the lake. There was no need to rush around, not when neither of them were all that eager to go home. The longer he spent with Stan, the less time he spent at home. That was two bonuses.

“Would you… do this again with me?” Butters mumbled.

“Yeah. Maybe next time, we'll make it clear it's a date,” Stan said with a little laugh.

“I sure hope so. Kinda sucked not knowing if I could touch you or not,” Butters said.

Stan snorted. “Touch me all you want, dude. Wait. Jesus, that sounds dirty.”

Butters laughed with him, squeezing him tighter. Without thinking, he kissed Stan's temple, and screamed internally. He moved away quickly - if Stan didn't comment, then he didn't know. So much for taking things slow, Butters. He really needed to learn how to control himself.

Stan laughed softly. Oh no, was he laughing  _ with _ Butters, or laughing  _ at _ him? Stupid Butters and his stupid lack of self control - he was pushing the limits. At least Stan wasn't mad, and he certainly wasn't rejecting him. Not yet, anyway.

“Maybe next time, you can come over and I can show you my art,” Butters said.

Oh no, why did he say that? Now Stan was going to know he was lame. What sort of date was coming over to look at dumb art? Butters sighed.

“No, I'm sorry, that's stupid,” Butters added.

“I was gonna say I can come over tomorrow,” Stan said.

“Oh! Well, you could! My mom and dad shouldn't be home, so it should be just us.” It took a moment for Butters to realise what he was suggesting. When he realised, his whole body set alight in embarrassment. “I mean-- it ain't like that! I just thought…”

“It's fine, Butters. I didn't think you meant anything else,” Stan said.

Butters was relieved, but it just made him wonder what Stan thought of him. Did he think he was incapable of sex? Butters could do sex! He knew he was soft, but that didn't mean he couldn't be sexy. Oh Jesus, it was far too soon in their relationship to even  _ think _ about sex. Not to say that Stan wasn't attractive, but…

Butters needed to get out of his own head.

“Should we head back?” Butters asked.

He didn't want to, but he didn't want anyone to suspect anything if they were out alone for too long. Besides, the more time he spent with Stan, the more he wanted to kiss him. Unless Stan wanted to kiss. What if he did, and Butters was ruining it for himself?

“Yeah. I promised Kyle I'd come over tonight,” Stan said. “I should go. You know what he's like.”

Boy, did he. Butters nodded, letting go of Stan. Reluctantly, Stan let go of Butters as well. Maybe one day they could be out - maybe not even together, but just out. Butters understood how hard it must have been for Stan, nevermind his own situation.

Although they couldn't hold hands, they kept brushing their hands together as they walked. It was as close as they could get to physical contact without holding hands. It was enough for now, maybe even too much.

Butters’ house was closer to Stark’s Pond than Stan's, so they got to his home first. They stopped at his front door, and Butters was tempted to invite him in. It took every ounce of willpower not to grab him and pull him in for a kiss. But he didn't - people would have seen, and Butters didn't want to explain that.

“Guess I'll see you tomorrow, huh?” Butters asked.

“Yeah, guess so,” Stan mumbled.

It felt like they should have done something, but Butters didn't know what. Anything he could think of was either too much or too little. Instead, he smiled at Stan as brightly as he could.

“See ya tomorrow, then,” he said as he opened the door.

“Yeah, see you, Butters,” Stan said.

Butters smiled to himself as he got back inside the house. Tomorrow was going to be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday Butters! (Why won't these two just get together already...)
> 
> Check me out on [Tumblr!](http://vehicroids.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

Butters was sorting through his art projects, only to realise that he didn't have anything worth showing Stan. He was going to be here soon, and Butters had  _ nothing _ . He probably expected Mozart or something - Wait, no, Mozart wasn't an artist. Butters was so frazzled he was confusing his arts. He put his hands over his face and let out a little scream. It was going to be okay, he hoped.

He pulled out pieces of art that didn't look totally dreadful and laid them out on his bed. That was when he heard the front door. Butters smiled to himself, yet he was also screaming internally. He took a deep breath before going downstairs to open the door to Stan.

“Come on in!” Butters said, before leading the way to his room.

They could have sat in the living room, especially with his parents not being home, but he just his safer in his room. Butters ushered Stan into the room, where some of the nicer stuff had been laid out. He was about to put the rest of it away, but had forgotten about it. Unfortunately for Butters, that was what Stan looked at first.

“Aw, no, that's all the bad stuff,” Butters mumbled, reaching over to try and take it.

“If this is the bad stuff, then I can't wait to see the good stuff,” Stan said.

He handed Butters the stack of bad art, who gratefully took the papers and put them away. This left just two sketchbooks on the bed, filled with his best work. He knew some of it wouldn't be stellar, however. He was regretting his choice to ask Stan over more and more. He was going to make fun, tear it apart,  _ something. _ He rubbed his knuckles anxiously as he looked at Stan.

Stan grabbed one of the sketchbooks, pausing to look at Butters before flicking through the pages. Butters didn't even want to see his reaction. He put the rest of the art under his bed as a distraction, and looked at anything around the room not to look at Stan.

“I didn't know you were this good,” Stan said.

“It ain't all that special,” he laughed, scratching his arm.

“I can't even draw stick men. This is amazing, Butters.”

Butters blushed, turning completely away from Stan. He looked over his shoulder at Stan, who was still flicking through pages in awe.

“Do you sell your art? Because you should,” Stan said.

“Well, no. My dad says art a waste of time,” Butters said.

Art wasn't a waste of time, but he didn't know many people around here who would buy art. Well, unless it was inappropriate gay art, but Butters didn't want to draw that. Stan looked up from the book at him with a frown.

“Screw him, dude. You've always been talented. You remember when you made those little paper men for our movie?” Stan said.

Butters did remember. He also remembered the boys purposefully excluding him from being part of the actual movie. He had fun making the little paper men, so he wasn't that mad. Still, a little recognition wouldn’t have hurt.

Butters didn't know if Stan was genuinely interested, or if it was just something one feigned when they had a crush. Stan didn't seem like the artsy type. It probably was a good thing he wasn't, or he would poke at the glaring errors in Butters’ art.

Stan closed the second sketchbook, putting it on top of the first one. Butters grabbed them, holding them close to his chest. Maybe it was too soon to give him something so personal, but Butters trusted Stan not to make fun of him, or at least not to tell the others. At least if he didn’t care, he was polite about it.

“It’s cool that you can do this kind of stuff. I can’t draw at all,” Stan said.

“Well, it's not a matter of can or can’t, you just do it,” Butters shrugged, almost like it was obvious. “You know, you don’t have to pretend if you don’t care.”

“I do care, I'm just not an artist.” He sat down. “... if it makes you feel better, I uh… I play the guitar, and I sing.”

Stan placed his hands on his lap, staring down at them. Oh, he looked so cute - Butters had no idea Stan was a musician. An artist and a musician; they would have made quite a pair of supposed losers.

“Are you good?” What an awful question to ask.

Stan laughed. “No, not really.”

“I bet you're good! You should show me some time, if you're comfortable with that.”

Stan paused, before getting up from Butters’ bed. Oh good, he'd said the wrong thing - he really needed to learn how to behave himself and keep his mouth shut. He put his things away, dejected, when he heard his bedroom door open again. Stan stood in the doorway, holding a guitar case. He huffed, doubling over as he caught his breath.

“Hey. Sorry, I should've said. I just got a little… excited?” Stan laughed, embarrassed.

“I'm just glad I didn't say something dumb,” Butters laughed with him.

Stan sat at Butters’ computer chair, setting himself up. Butters couldn't help but feel excited: he was going to hear Stan sing. There was no way to quell his excitement. He sat nicely on his bed, watching Stan.

“Don't look at me with big, excited eyes,” Stan said, scratching the back of his head. “I'm still just an amateur, and… wait, why am I stalling? You'll hear for yourself.”

Stan's fingers were clumsy on the strings as he tried to find his feet. His hands shook a little. Finally, he hit the right note, and breathed a sigh of relief. He didn't look up at Butters, and instead, he stared down at his guitar like his life depended on it.

He swallowed hard and cleared his throat, before finally singing. His voice was quiet, and it was hard to hear him over the guitar, but it wasn't difficult to guess this was an original song. Butters couldn't make out the lyrics, but perhaps Stan was too scared to sing louder.

Stan's face was a little green when he finished the song. He put down his guitar and tried to speak, but a hand flew over his mouth and he ran to the bathroom. Butters almost chased after him when he heard Stan vomit in the bathroom. Oh, Jesus.

Butters got up and rushed downstairs to fetch him a glass of water. By the time he rushed back up, Stan had stopped puking, but half of his body was flopped over the toilet. Butters put the glass on the back of the toilet and crouched down.

“Stan?” he asked softly.

“God… yeah. Yeah, I'm alright,” he groaned.

He reached over and flushed the toilet, but did not move himself. Butters couldn't remember the last time Stan had puked like this; maybe on Wendy? Butters rubbed his back, but Stan still did not move.

“Did you eat something bad?”

Stan shook his head. “No. I thought I was over puking like this.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward huff. He sat up, wiping his eyes and taking a deep breath.

“Sorry. I swear, I'm fine. I think I just got too nervous,” Stan mumbled.

Butters smiled at him. “It's just me. You don't have to be nervous.”

Stan rubbed his neck. “That's… yeah. Nothing to be scared of.”

“You can use some mouthwash if you need it,” Butters said.

Would he still kiss Stan after this? Well, probably. If he wanted to kiss. Oh God, Butters shouldn't have been thinking about that. He put the mouthwash down by the sink and went back to the bedroom. Stupid cute boys and their dumb kissable faces, even after being sick.

Stan eventually came back in, holding the now half-empty glass in his hand. He put it on Butters’ desk as he sat back on the chair. He looked a little lost, looking around Butters’ room.

“You were really good,” Butters said.

“Seriously? That wasn't even at my best,” Stan mumbled. “That was just embarrassing.”

“Well, I liked it. It meant a lot to me that I got to hear it. So, there.”

Stan looked at the guitar, hesitating, before picking it up. He leaned on it, but didn't carry on playing.

“I didn't know you write your own songs,” Butters smiled.

“Oh, yeah, I uh…” Stan was so nervous and so cute. “I have another song, if you're interested.”

“Course I am!”

Stan smiled, but his face paled. He fumbled with his guitar, mumbling, before it was where he wanted it. He started playing again; this time, the song was more upbeat. Stan occasionally glanced up at Butters while he played, but mostly stared at his guitar.

His voice was louder this time, but Butters still couldn't understand the lyrics. Stan was a cute shade of red as he played, and Butters couldn't get enough of watching him.

“ _ And maybe, you'd like to- _ " a string snapped as he played. “Shit! Ow!”

This was not Stan's day. He held his cheek where the string had smacked him, wincing. Butters stood up and crouched down to Stan's level. He gently pushed his hand away to check - just a little red mark. Butters brushed his thumb against it.

“You okay?” he asked.

Stan stared dumbly at Butters, like he had short circuited inside. His eyes were so pretty - who knew hazel could be so nice? He couldn't stop looking at him, and Stan couldn't stop staring right back at him.

“Yeah, I'm-- You know what? Fuck it.”

He cupped Butters’ cheek, his hand clammy and warm on his face. He yanked Butters head closer and pressed their lips together hard. Butters’ eyes widened, blinking at Stan, before he shared his sentiment:  _ fuck it _ .

Butters threw his arms around Stan's shoulders and leaned into the kiss. Stan's lips were chapped, and his breathing was shaky. He tasted vaguely of mouthwash and puke, which was a rather sickening combination. Butters didn't mind, not yet.

They pulled apart, and Butters stared at him, blinking. Stan looked like he was about to pass out - his face was white and Butters didn't think Stan was breathing. Stan closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

“I'm sorry Butters, I--" Stan sighed. “I really like you. I'm sorry if that was too soon or something, I don't know anything about this gay shit.”

Butters laughed a little. “It's the same as straight stuff, right? It's just when we're both ready. And… it wasn't unwanted.”

It was a little strange seeing Stan so flustered. Did he ever get like this with girls, or was it just because liking boys was a new concept for him? Whatever it was, it was cute. Stan was cute.

“So, uh, what I was gonna ask before the string snapped,” Stan mumbled. He opened his eyes, but struggled to look at Butters. “Do you wanna… this was way easier when singing, fuck. Do you wanna go out? Like, for real. As boyfriends. Or something.”

Stan was  _ adorable _ . Butters wanted to cover his face in kisses, but with how Stan was, it looked like a gentle breeze would knock him over.

“Of course I do! I dunno why you're so nervous about it Stan, you know I'd say yes,” Butters said.

“Really? Holy shit, dude!” Stan beamed.

Butters kissed the end of his nose, unable to stop smiling with Stan. Holy shit, he had a boyfriend - and his parents could never know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been sitting in my docs for... 3 months. I don't know why I haven't posted it. But here it is! One chapter left. And this is relatively short - sorry! Next one will probably be about the same length tbh
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://vehicroids.tumblr.com) || [Twitter](https://twitter.com/vehicroids)

**Author's Note:**

> Shouldn't I be doing something else than writing SP fanfics? I mean, yes, but it won't stop me. I can't stomach writing anything from my main fandom right now, so instead I'll just keep writing SP fanfiction.
> 
> I have changed the ending after someone rightfully pointed out the ending was a little forced. Thank you!! Concrit is 100% appreciated.
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](http://vehicroids.tumblr.com)!


End file.
